


I'll Pick You Every Time

by justleveledup



Category: Feverwake - Victoria Lee
Genre: Lehrer is dead cuz fuck that guy, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Sexual Content, post-teh, they both have praise kinks don't @ me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justleveledup/pseuds/justleveledup
Summary: Noam isn't always okay, but he's working on it.
Relationships: Noam Álvaro/Dara Shirazi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	I'll Pick You Every Time

Noam wakes up to one of those perfect mornings - the sky is soft with light, the sun just starting to think about rising, and a light breeze comes in through the open window, nice after the solid week of heat they've been stuck with. He doesn't have work today either, so his morning is awash with possibility: he can go for a run, he and Dara can make breakfast and then eat it in bed while they watch cartoons, they can curl up close to each other and-- 

There's movement behind him, a body shifting, and a hand lands on his waist where his shirt has ridden up in his sleep, and he seizes. Fingers tighten as the person rolls properly against his back now, soft breath on his neck, and he braces and waits for the pain, for the magic to burn through his nerves, for a hand to tighten on his neck until he can't breath, and then to tighten more… 

"Noam," a voice says, lips against his ear, and he wants to cry, wants to curl into himself because  _ you're dead, you're gone, I never want your hands on me again _ . 

"Noam," Dara says urgently, "Noam, it's just me." 

Noam opens his eyes and sees Dara crouched on the floor in front of him, one hand braced on the bed and one on Noam's face, fingers curled behind his ear. 

"Hey," Dara says with tears in his eyes, "I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry." 

"No," Noam starts, wanting to tell Dara not to apologize. He hates when Dara has to apologize, because it's always Noam doing something dumb, always Noam, Dara is perfect and he should know. 

"I'm sorry, Noam," Dara says again. 

Noam pushes himself up on an elbow so he can lean over and kiss him. He wishes Dara could still read his mind so he would  _ know _ it's Noam who's sorry, and this kiss is a poor substitute for that, but Dara gets both hands around Noam's head and kisses him back fiercely. 

Noam wants more. Wants to erase the memory with Dara's hands, Dara's mouth, Dara's body pressing him into the mattress. He grabs the front of Dara's shirt and leans back into the pillow, so Dara has to follow him, and Dara's does, because he's so good, he always knows-- 

Dara gets both of Noam's wrists in his hands, pins them above his head as his knees tighten around Noam's hips. "This okay?" he asks as his thumbs rub circles on Noam's wrists. 

Like this, Noam could die happy. He nods, fervent, cants his hips up. "Dara, please."

"Shh," Dara hushes, his lips moving down his neck and across his collar bone. "Wish I could keep you like this," he says, tightening his hands around Noam's wrists. "Desperate for me." 

Of course, how could he not be, when Dara is so perfect? When Dara knows exactly what to say, where to touch, when Dara can set him on fire with just a look? 

"You can have it, always," Noam tells him. He feels so good he's lightheaded. "You deserve it, you're so perfect, you can have me--" 

Dara silences him with a kiss, rough and messy, one hand leaving his wrists to fumble between them, to get their pajama pants off. Noam could help, or he could roll his hips up into Dara to get that sweet friction. He groans, and Dara swears, gets a hand around Noam and strokes, slowly, until Noam is panting against his cheek. 

Dara's mouth lands on his neck, sucking on a pulse point. Noam could get drunk on this, on Dara's body over his. 

He tilts his head so Dara has more access, can kiss his way along to Noam's collarbone. He stares up at the ceiling and says, "You're beautiful." 

Dara hums.

"I mean it. Absolutely gorgeous." 

Dara shudders against him, grip tightening around his wrist before it goes slack, and then Dara lets go to push himself up, to hover over Noam. 

"Noam," he starts, but Noam follows him, kisses his jaw. 

"Sometimes it's a struggle to keep my hands off you," Noam continues. 

Dara pushes him back down with a hand on his chest. Keeps it there, his weight enough pressure to make Noam still. 

"I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be making you feel good," Dara says with a smile. He rolls his hips, one hand still on Noam's chest, the other bracing himself against the wall. "Noam, you're…" he breaks off with an exhale, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. "You're amazing, you know that, right? I don't even have to be in your brain anymore to know that. You're so good, and the fact that you would pick me is…" 

Noam knocks away the hand on his chest, sits up so he can crowd into Dara's space, hands on his hips, and kiss him. Dara's arm falls across his shoulder, wraps around his neck, as he starts undoing the buttons on Noam's shirt. 

"I love you," Noam breathes into his mouth, "and I'll pick you every time." 

Dara gets Noam's shirt off, takes off his own, wraps his arms back around Noam's shoulders and grinds into him. 

Noam wants so much. Dara's nails dig into his back and his breathing is ragged, and Noam uses his grip on Dara's hips to get them both friction. There's heat, fire in Noam's veins and along his spine. He wants. 

Dara gives. Hands running up and down his back, fingers combing through his hair, legs tight around Noam's hips. Biting at Noam's lower lip, his jaw, the soft skin behind his ear. Murmuring under his breath how unbelievable Noam is sometimes. 

Noam doesn't think he could last much longer. Dara could probably start listing all of Noam's flaws and he would still be close, still be on edge from the husk of Dara's voice and the soft press of his fingers. 

"You're perfect," he has to say again, because Dara should always hear it, and he always wants to be saying it. 

"Shut up," Dara says, getting his hand back around Noam. "You're so dumb." 

Noam is. Dumb. So dumb. But it feels so good, so good, Dara feels so good, and Noam… 

Maybe later Noam will be embarrassed that he finished with barely any action. They both still have pajama pants on, for fucks sake, but he feels nothing but heat in the moment, especially when Dara groans into his neck and jerks his hips shortly after. 

Noam flops back against the pillows, Dara following to curl against his side, lazily stroking his hip. 

"I actually wanted you to fuck me," Noam says after a moment. 

"I still can," Dara says. He presses a soft kiss to Noam's cheek. "I love you too, you know." 

Noam rolls over so he's on his side, so him and Dara are face to face, so Noam can rub his nose against Dara's. Maybe later they can fully wake up and make pancakes, but for now, Noam is content to slip one of his legs between Dara's, to press closer so every line of their bodies is touching, and drift off back to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished TEH and I had so many feelings I knew I had to get into this fandom. Anyways, who wants to scream about how Noam and Dara deserve the world and nothing less??


End file.
